Hierarchy of Needs
by VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps
Summary: .Sandy Masquerade. Something happens and the Konoha shinobi are forced to stay in Suna. Guess who they're bunking with? Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro, duhh! But what does this have to do with three photographs of Gaara's? :spoilers,au,shounen ai,yaoi,angst:
1. Pictures

**Sandy Masquerade**

_By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps_

In Gaara's whole house (if the small apartment in Suna could even be called that) there were only three pictures.

The first was of a man with blonde hair that fell beautifully, almost reaching his shoulders. His eyes seemed to be a mixture of blue, gray, and brown, though gray was the most visible. He had a kind smile gracing his rather feminine features, though it was still obvious he was male. The man seemed to be in a kitchen; it was warm and friendly, and if you looked at the picture long enough you could almost smell the baked goods fresh from the oven.

The second was also of a man, though he seemed to be the exact opposite of the man in the other picture. He had short red hair that looked almost blood colored in contrast to his pale white skin. His skin also enhanced the color of his eyes—a soulless green, hard and without emotion, but even if there were emotion it would probably be anger. His eyes had a thin dark line around them, most likely brought on from lack of sleep since he had been up working all night; he was situated behind a large desk littered with what seemed to be medical forms or overdue bills. Unlike the last photo, if you stared at it long enough you would feel antsy, like there was someone coming to kill you and you knew it, just not when.

The last picture was of a woman. She looked like the man in the first picture, probably a relative of his. She too had a kind smile like his, but hers was friendlier. Her hair was a darker shade of blonde, maybe actually with light brown hair. Her hair seemed to shape her face better than the first man, the ends of it swooping towards her rather than just going straight down. Her eyes were blue, gray, and brown too, but they seemed more blue in the lighting she had. She was outside on a grassy hill, on the top; apparently, because you could see the clear blue sky with its white swirls called clouds. She didn't give off a feeling like the first or the second man, though. The feeling she had couldn't be described, but if anyone had to tell about the photograph, they would say she seemed motherly.

Little did Gaara know, he would soon have other people looking at the only three pictures he owned.

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Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Author's Note: This was just the prologue, so don't fume at me for making it so short. Well, what do you think? Good, bad, undecided? But most of all, should I continue with this story? I already have ideas for future chapters, but I don't know if anybody really wants to read them… Anyway, if you review, could you tell me if I did a good job describing? I think I did a good enough job to be able to tell who they are, but I'm the one who wrote it, so I don't think that counts. Thanks for reading!


	2. Lukewarm Conversations

A/N – I…yeah. The title was changed because we've been talking about this thing called Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs in school and I thought it fit really well with the ninja life and stuff like that. There are 5 levels of needs, and everything in the first level has to have the greatest intensity and must be met before you can step up to the next level. The levels are Physical, Safety, Love, Self-Esteem, and Self-Actualization. Yeah. I thought it fit. Oh, and the only reason I rally got interested in this again is that I absolutely love Gaara and Kimimaru's fight – it's airing in the states now in English. I've also been kind of preoccupied lately because of school and stuff, so deal with it.

Sorry for the shortness! I promise the next chapter will be longer and soon, too!

Sandy Masquerade – Hierarchy of Needs

VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps

Chapter 2: Lukewarm Conversations

To say Gaara wasn't happy would be an understatement. But hey, who would be happy to be told they had to move back in with their family?

Temari sighed, flattening the sheets on the bed in her younger brother's room and pulling a coin out of her pocket, dropping it and catching it as it became airborne again. Temari knew Gaara wasn't happy – he rarely was, but she hoped he wouldn't revert back to his old state of mind, where she and her other brother were the enemy and he felt the need to be secluded and away from them (though he was usually secluded anyway, only then by pretense of the law).

Feeling a presence behind her Temari turned slightly, still fixing the already perfect bed. "Will he?" she asked quietly.

"Dunno," her brother, Kankuro, answered her softly.

Biting her bottom lip in frustration, Temari straightened her back and took a good look around the room. It was a nice size – 15 by 15 – and the walls were painted a deep chocolaty brown on one side with red accents and the other side was tan with the accents, something Gaara would hopefully still like, and there was nothing but a perfect bed with red and black sheets and a nice looking desk of a darker wood found outside of Konoha with an older clock on it, giving Roman numerals from across the desert and to the west in a circular fashion, making a small ticking noise every second. There was also a door, the same color as the desk except a shade off that led into an empty closet.

Ever since Gaara had been kicked out by their father when he was still alive this room had looked the same, exactly how it had been left. Kankuro stepped in almost hesitantly. "Never been here," he muttered. And it was true. Neither Temari nor Kankuro had been in Gaara's old room until this day for his spirit might throw sand at them and laugh sadistically, but Temari has decided that it would be good to clean it for him since he had most likely left it a mess, then was shocked to see it already clean, the barren walls screaming "get out!"

"Me neither."

"When's he coming?"

"Not sure. Today sometime."

"I see."

"I don't."

"Good, me neither."

Kankuro inwardly cringed at how retarded he sounded to himself. It was almost like he didn't know how to talk anymore, which in retrospect he guessed he didn't, especially since he hadn't spoken to his sister in at least three months. Come to think of it, neither of them had said a word to anyone unless a shinobi came around. No one in the town spoke of Gaara. He had been exiled, kicked out, and now it had been decided that he must come back to rule as Kazekage from inside Suna – he had been just fine doing so from outside.

Kankuro silently prayed to Kami that Gaara would still like his room, even if it was barren. He shivered, but not from cold.

Temari turned suddenly, walking out of the hot, dust-filled room, complaining of hunger or tiredness or something that Kankuro didn't hear in time. He sighed, looked around desolately and noticing the small scratch on his hand from when he was been practicing a new move with Karasu had now formed a reddish puss-like crust. He grimaced, leaving the room for a bandage and closing the door behind him.

Stalking to the bathroom, the looked around in the cabinets with anger. Where was the first aid kit? "Tems, where's the band-aids?" his voice cracked from lack of use at such a volume and his heart skipped a beat at the old nickname, no longer sure if he was aloud to use it.

"Look under the sink." He noted quietly how her voice shook slightly, yet didn't crack. That was just like her, never showing weakness. Closing the cabinets and opening the drawer under the sink he found the first aid kit, reopened his wound under some lukewarm water, put on disinfectant, and wrapped it in gauze.


End file.
